


he is messy, he is kind (he is lonely, most of the time)

by PuriPuki



Series: blessed be the boys time can't capture [8]
Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Character Study, Minor Character Death, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-08
Updated: 2016-12-08
Packaged: 2018-09-07 05:56:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8785759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PuriPuki/pseuds/PuriPuki
Summary: In what little time he spent with his mother and father, it was always well enjoyed, whether he struggled in learning his father’s native tongue or practicing things like sewing or cooking with his mother.





	

In Ylisse, Gerome grew up well loved and well taken care of. Cherche and Lon’qu were away often, but he didn’t mind - he knew they were helping others, so it was okay. Whenever they would be gone for more than a day, he would go to stay with Lucina’s family in the castle, where there was no shortage of entertainment and love to go around. Gerome was still shy, but played with the other children just as much as he liked, even once joining Cynthia and Owain and the twins' expeditions around the castle grounds. 

 

It was a little lonely, maybe. But he didn’t mind, because his mother and father were good people. They were helping others, he thought, and was as proud of that as a seven year old could be. He always stayed up as late as he could to wait for his parents to return home, always signaled by Minerva’s tell-tale caws.

 

In what little time he spent with his mother and father, it was always well enjoyed, whether he struggled in learning his father’s native tongue or practicing things like sewing or cooking with his mother. He often fumbled while sewing, fingers too small and untrained to sew with much precision. He knew, from the other kids in the city, that most little boys didn’t learn things like that - Jaime from two streets over told him that when his own father came back from the war, his father would teach him how to fight with a sword. When Gerome asked his mother why she taught him these things, she had told him that they were necessities, important to living on his own once he grew up, when he lived without them. He decided then that he never wanted to grow up and have to leave his parents, proclaiming, “I’m not going to! I’m gonna stay with you and tousan forever, mama!”

 

One fateful winter day, Minerva came home without his parents. 

 

She had returned with arrows in her side and drooping eyes, her dark scales tarnished by blood. He did the best he could to help her, rubbing her neck and chin while she whined, until one of the neighbors could come and help him remove the arrows. Two days later, a letter arrived containing a single iron ring and insincere condolences. 

 

It takes a week for Minerva to heal enough to fly. Lucina urged him to come stay at the castle with her and her family, but he said he had an uncle to stay with. He didn’t, but he flew north with Minerva anyways. 

 

The people in the Feroxi city seem to have a wary sense of goodwill towards him, as Gerome wanders the streets with Minerva trailing behind him. He eventually finds the Khan’s residence, a looming stone castle in the center of the city. He asks for Basilio, telling the guards that his father was a good friend. They don’t believe him until they hear the name ‘Lon’qu’, and usher him into the warmth of the drawing room. 

 

Flavia is the one who greets him instead of Basilio. He’s truly unsure of what to expect at all, having never met his grandfather, but has to hope that he’s here somewhere. 

 

“Why are you here, instead of Ylisse, with your parents?” She asks him, unphased by the wyvern at his side. “Surely it’s much safer there.”

 

“They died,” He says, “I didn’t know where to go, but… but, tousan told me that my ojisan lived here and I thought…”

 

“Tousan? Ojisan? What language is that, kid?” Flavia asks, brow furrowed.

 

“Chon’sinese, tousan - my dad - spoke it. Ojisan means grandfather, and tousan said that ojisan was the khan of Ferox, Basilio. I’m here for him.” Gerome tells her, with as much seriousness as he can muster. “My tousan was his friend, he fought with a sword for ojisan in the, the tourna- tournament before.”

 

“I see,” Flavia replies, a deep silence settling over the room. “So you’re Lon’qu’s son. It’s nice to meet you, but I’m afraid to say that Basilio died months ago.”

 

“Oh,” He says. Gerome’s not sure what kind of reaction that the khan is looking for.

 

“Well. That does it. Welcome to Ferox, kid, I’m your grandmother now,” She pauses a moment, before making a horrified face, “damn, I’m getting old.”

 

“Um… okay?” Gerome mumbles, before Flavia stands and announces that she’ll give him a personal tour of the castle that he’ll be calling home from now on. “What about Minerva?”

 

“Don’t worry, kiddo, I’ll have one of the soldiers take her to the ‘stables’. We don’t have any horses here, so she’ll have the space all to herself.”

 

“Will I be able to visit her?” He asks, leaning closer to the wyvern. Flavia chuckles, before assuring him that he’ll be able to see Minerva whenever he pleases. 

 

The first birthday he celebrates with Flavia is his eighth, and she presents him a bronze axe and small piles of novels as a gift. Minerva brings him a dead deer, which they eat for dinner that night. He begs with Flavia to start teaching him how to wield the axe within seconds of holding it, and she chuckles, telling him, “Well, of course! I don’t know about you, but I’ve never seen a wyvern rider that didn’t know how to use an axe,”

 

He struggles with it. It’s heavy in his hands, and the wood leaves splinters in his fingers afterwards. Minerva naps while Flavia trains him, huffing in the corner of the courtyard while he runs laps and practices swinging lighter axes before moving onto his real axe. 

 

Within a few years, Gerome has grown in many ways. He is taller now, head high and shoulders broad, and his black hair longer. His skill with the axe is greater, able to wield steel axes and fight with great precision and accuracy from atop Minerva. His skill in other arts is greater as well, now able to mend his own clothes using the rudimentary skills he learned from his mother before her death. His longing for his mother and father has grown even stronger as the years have gone by, missing their gentle singing with each birthday that passes. On his twelfth birthday, Flavia sends him back to Ylisse with her best wishes and a stern warning to stay away from the slums, telling him to bring her condolences and good tidings to Lucina. 

 

He’s late to her coronation. Of course. Minerva lands in the castle courtyards hours after Lucina took on the heavy title of Exalt, where he meets Laurent, as if the other is waiting for him.

 

“It has been quite a long time since we’ve seen each other, old friend” Laurent says, extending a hand. Gerome makes note that he’s short for a twelve year old, and still just as polite.

 

“Quit talking like you’re an old man, Laurent. … It’s good to see you too.”

 

Gerome is surprised to find that Laurent’s mother is still alive, having thought that all of their parents had passed, but makes no comment on it. Together, the two take up lodgings in an abandoned knights’ quarters near the castle grounds, where he slowly adjusts to the thriving life in Ylisstol.

 

The cities in Ferox had been rather sparsely populated, many of the nation’s people living in smaller and more rural areas. Gerome knew he had grown up in a considerable amount of isolation, living only with Flavia and her royal guard for many of his formative years. The noise at night is particularly jarring - now, instead of the familiar croon of an owl or two, night brings about warm conversation and drunks stumbling down the lanes. 

 

It’s quieter at night when he and Laurent move into the castle, but still, there is noise. The soft murmur of crying is not a sweet lullaby.

 

For the next three years, Gerome trains. He spends nearly all of his time in the sparring arena, testing his skills, as well as Minerva’s, as long as the sun is up - Inigo is a common foe, always brutal with the wooden sword and rose rimmed one-liners. For his fifteenth birthday, Flavia is unable to make the trip to Ylisstol as she had promised earlier that year. Instead, she sends him a steel mask, coated in what seems to be black paint (except, it’s  _ good  _ paint, it doesn’t chip once in the several years to come - making no excuse for him to have as many backup masks as he does). He cherishes this gift, especially when no gift comes the next year, or the next, or the next. It’s assumed that Flavia, along with Ferox, is gone.

 

He pretends that it doesn’t hurt him, he tells Inigo as much when he’s caught sobbing at night. Inigo sits with him, and talks about trivial things, until they’re both able to slip into sleep on the stiff loveseat.

 

When the time comes, he goes with Severa and Laurent to Plegia to fetch the Emblem and Vert. He is not hopeful that they can succeed, as he has learned the hard way that hope does not always work in one’s best interest. 

 

As much as he adores the dancer, Gerome is  _ furious  _ when he comes to find that Inigo’s group was unsuccessful, having only retrieved Argent. When Naga pleases herself to tell Lucina that  _ fucking time travel  _ is still a viable option, his agitation only rises. He snaps, unsurprisingly, at Inigo, who bites back with as much venom as possible. The argument is put to rest easily, thanks in part to Laurent’s skill with Elwind tomes, but it is not settled - though it may not have been a true lover’s squabble, they’ll have to talk about this eventually.

 

That talk is forcefully put off by an impromptu surge of Risen and visit from the devil himself. Gerome and Lucina take to the skies on Minerva, doing all they can to harm Grima with what might as well be a toothpick to the beast. The monster hisses and cries when Falchion strikes his scales, but it doesn’t appear to be doing much in actually stopping the beast. 

 

When Grima retreats and the Risen are called off, for time being, they return to a burning and empty village. There is nothing here for anyone now. Lucina, still, tells them that they have a choice to stay or go, but she’s leaving either way.

 

Inigo apologizes for the fight earlier, before announcing his newest and most ridiculous idea yet; he’s staying with Gerome in the past, despite being so sure in going back earlier in the evening. Gerome sighs, finding it so hard to believe that he’s in love with this idiot, but, for all it’s worth, Inigo is  _ his  _ idiot, and Gerome isn’t going to be the one that keeps his beloved from seeing his family again. 

 

“I’m not going to be responsible for you staying here. Make your preparations.” He thinks it may sound harsher than he means to be, but Inigo is on Mount Prism the next morning despite it.

 

He lands in a shithole in Valm, unsure of the year and unsure where he needs to be going. He told the others that he was going to take Minerva to Wyvern Valley, where she could spend the last of her days (hopefully, there were many) in peace with her own kind. This, of course, does not work out. Gerome had remained with Minerva in the small town for three days before being ready to begin their journey when the town was ransacked. 

 

Lo and behold, the Shepherds appear. As much as he loved his parents, Gerome  _ really  _ does not want to see them right now, not like this, not while they’re newlywed, not before he’s born. He wants his parents back as much as the other children do, but… he fears that his presence will change what becomes of his parents. How many children they’ll have, be it more or none, how they’ll live their lives, if they’ll live at all.

 

He avoids them, to avoid causing disaster.

 

Every time he speaks to his parents, it is strained. Tense. The first time he flees a conversation with his father, he nearly winces at the pained look on his face. It’s almost the same with his mother, but Cherche seems to know why he holds her at an arm's length, and eventually manages to drag out his love for her. The same cannot be said of Lon’qu - Gerome loves his father, but he is too… reserved, cold. When he says as much to Minerva, she huffs at him, indicative of how similar they are.

 

His tense relationship with Lon’qu comes to a head a month after his reluctant recruitment to the Shepherds. 

 

“Ah, Gerome, there you are, I’ve been looking for you.” His father seems antsy, today, but that may be because of the upcoming battle, Gerome reasons. “A moment, please?”

 

“Is something the matter?” Lon’qu raises a hand at the question, reaching to rub his nape. Gerome notes this as suspicious, remembering briefly that his father would do the same if he managed to burn dinner or ‘lose’ Gerome at the market on accident.

 

“Well, ah, your mother and I have heard rumors about your relationship with Olivia’s boy,” His father starts, looking uncomfortable, but not nearly as uncomfortable as he is.

 

“Um,”

 

“Cherche was, ah, curious and, well… what is your relationship with him?”

 

“Um, I have to, uh-” Gerome sputters, surely growing red under his mask, but his father presses on despite looking so uncomfortable at first.

 

“Don’t feel pressed to answer, but, do I need to, ah, how did Cherche put it? ‘Rough Inigo up a little bit’?” Lon’qu seems genuine, but this is  _ not  _ what Gerome was expecting and it sends a cherry red flush across his cheeks.

 

“ _ Tousan no _ ” He hisses, before slapping his hands over his mouth. His father’s eyes widen in surprise, mouth gaping in surprise. “I’m- I’m going.”

 

That night, when he and Inigo exchange gentle touches, he warns him about his father potentially trying to give him the ‘break my kid’s heart and I kill you’ speech. Inigo tells him, “While I highly doubt I would intentionally hurt you, your father is scary and I will be very afraid if he does that”

 

“You’ll be okay,” Gerome assures him, “he’s not that scary.”

 

“Oh yeah?”

  
“If you want to talk scary in-laws, you haven’t met your own father.”


End file.
